“Feel”

The shades of light are a difficult omen
You feel love and your heart is open
He is full of promise, plans and X-Ray glasses
What happens if Winter appears in the middle of August?

The phrases of a beautiful night
May give way to the on-coming hearse
And these early days can only delay
They will make falling such a painful birth
What’s in his palm?
And what’s it’s worth?
You’re usually pulled out screaming with such terrible burns

It doesn’t always have to be like that
This time you may be surprised…
Just three little words said without guilt, fear or loathing
And what makes him different is that these words are always spoken

Give him a chance and love could be real
Making you happy that you finally feel.






© 2008 Steven Pottle

“A Ray Of Son”

If I had a son
I’d call him Patrick
He’d be blue eyed and smile wide
He’d fall about laughing while learning to stand up straight
I’d slowly reveal the world around him and explain about the sky and stars
We’d look to the moon with the lights turned off every night before bedtime
All helping to stretch his imagination way beyond the need for a television education

We’d be best friends, but understand that he is son and I am Dad
He’d get upset at my ‘unfair’ demands, sulk and then agree with me as we both shake hands
Every morning a breakfast together of toast, cereal and real orange juice with bits
All ready for another exciting day of house work, playtime and maybe a chocolate milkshake
We’d explore the garden for tiny creatures scurrying and interesting pebbles to collect in his bucket
And out in the backyard we’d find thick hedges with secret hiding places
And giggle behind our hands as Nan tried desperately to find us

When we are walking he’d ask me endless questions that I hope that I could answer
If not, then we’d find an explanation later in an encyclopaedia or on computer
Counting would be fun with buttons and bottle tops, chalk then a calculator
He wouldn’t want to stop at a hundred as a thousand is too easy peasy
He’d love cartoons and understand their friendship- he gets that from me
He’d sneakily drink milk from the bottle when no one is looking- that’s what I used to do too
I’d love every hair on his head and keep him safe from harm
Protect him forever even when he’s left home and has children of his own
And as the day fades I pray to whoever that I’m so happy that he was made…

But today I sit and wish that he could be around
As it’s probably never going to happen now
I’ll never know how it feels for real
So I hold myself back from tears
Of men that will never exist.







© 2008 Steven Pottle

'My Indian Summer"

Here with me
Down in the depths in the worst of messes
Look at me
Drawn to the dagger black and dark of hearts
Speak to me
I'm unable to see the dawn that brings with her a new day
Feel for me
I thought bird song was a horrible noise that was out of my control…

Talk to me
He tells me all about the things he sees and it isn't all badness
Words for me
He convinces that just over the horizon there is a future waiting patiently
Hold onto me
Just one touch blows away the cobwebs and makes the limbs feel real
Care for me
An embrace that lasts the whole night long and well into tomorrow…

Returned to me
I was afraid I'd be alone and that you wouldn't ever come back to the house
Stand with me
I was about to give up the ghost of myself and slumber into an endless rest
So I turn to you
Your warm breeze that whispers to the sky and asks for constant sunshine
Praise to you
I thank you for keeping me safe through the worst of the Autumns
Love for you
What would I have done without the warmth from my Indian Summer.






(For Matthew...thank you.)
© 2008 Steven Pottle

“Heaven On Earth”

So if heaven exists then does it ever appear here on Earth
Does something from above ever descend to mend these men
Does the feeling ever reach out and creep around these streets
Will angels shine bright over moss roofs and bird shit lampposts
Will they fly over and smooth out all of these complicated rough roads
Will the light ever find us here leaning up against this wall
The place where all the bad and dog piss falls
As nobody here wants to believe in anything other than celebrity and T.V.
But the convenience of his existence during heartache and loss is overwhelming
And you hope that he’s alive the next time you sit and cry
So could we ever find a God who will sit comfortably in our lives?






© 2008 Steven Pottle

“The and It”

Every word and experience sank deep into my being
Penetrating my every question and then my every reaction
Flowing through my blood, hidden there behind my eyes
Making me the man that I am-
The man that I’ve always wanted to be
And I cannot stop the pictures from forming and so they fight in my brain
Bustling and bullying, impatiently waiting and wanting to escape
Along with the words that tango on the tongue
Before I approve, before I choose to let them loose
Confused by these sentences that tingle on my fingertips
Hurried scribbled notes on tatty receipts and on the backs of envelopes
The inky fingers that print the waiting pages
I am the holder and release of my peace and rages
I am the creature of what begins inside-
So here I am; walking the book I write.




© 2008 Steven Pottle

“Hover In Conscious”

…Like the car lights finding a sudden black spot curve just in time
Like a well thought of loved one safe and wrapped in blankets
Like the worm that finally discovered a wet soil escape in the rain
Like being able to touch the ceiling in a room too small
Like all these years that you’ve been alive and you’ve never seen a real live firefly
Like you can never quite catch the Summer arriving-
You just wake one morning and the sun is constantly shining
With those birds that just need to sing
And you wonder what their songs really mean
Like being happy and in love…
I’m drifting off, falling asleep.

Like owning the newest complete home entertainment system
Like the sensations that the cat is feeling while sleeping on the new speakers
Like having no one sitting in front of you in the cinema
Like having Joe Dallesandro over for dinner
Like telling your crap boss exactly what you think of him
Like blowing up your landlords kitchen on the very day that you are leaving
Like having your ankles high above your head, high in the air-
Feeling and being like a kid again
Only now without the pain…
I’m drifting off, falling asleep.

I’m drifting off again
After my exhausting journey
I’m finally sleeping-
Like a hovercraft resting at the waters edge.




© 2008 Steven Pottle

“The Dove”

You may not believe in peace and love
But it’s all that I wear, it’s all that I’ve got…

Bright before my eyes, pumping in my heart and flows in circles around my arms
I’ll always trust in the gentle and sensitive sides
And I don’t consider these to be a sign of weakness
They are the stronger and they stand and fall by each other
While you hide behind your men in their terror uniforms and death turrets

A frown has engraved my face and it’s too late to turn it around
This confused mug has become all that people see when they look at me
So I smile despite the lines as I never wanted to get old before my time
Though your long lies and quick goodbyes have forced us all to grab for the cage and stay inside
I still look to a time when someone may put down their gun in horror and love the pretty petals of simple flowers

You may call me a foolish sissy or the symbol of a tragic romantic
But when the earth is either burnt to a crisp or over flown with sudden rivers
I’ll go under knowing that one day I may breathe again
I like to think that we always hurt the ones that we really love
And so it’s easier for us to say that we hate rather than to proclaim feelings other than those of pain
You can always press the hand of karma and ask for her forgiveness
So I wish you luck for the future as your past returns to meet her…

You may not believe in peace or love
But it’s all that we need, it’s all that we’ve got.




© 2008 Steven Pottle

"Front Of House"

There’s a party happening right now on the other side of the city
There’s people chatting and clapping, stupid dancing and whispers of a little something naughty a bit later
Their atmosphere travels across the neighbouring rooftops and in a while it tumbles and taps at my bedroom window
Begging me to make an appearance and I was already thinking about just turning up
The invite said 5:30 and it’s already 7 o’clock…
I think that this makes me fashionably late
And I haven’t seen everyone together like this for ages.

Ready in no time and I’m walking through the city back roads
It’s strange but wonderful how everything seems different tonight-
The buildings sideways and above, and the shops all around look another colour
I guess you see something new all of the time
Also the people that pass by me all look like strangers-
Maybe I don’t really know everybody like they say I do
The sky looks different too-
It looks like rain and sunshine mixed together…
So the light is low and bright white and so nothing can be hidden
Each crack and crumble exposed for the world to see
This evening the old city looks completely new to me.

I’m turning down familiar streets that I’ve turned down a million times before
But tonight they are shining and seem to be so beautifully clean
The house is getting closer and I’m getting that feeling in my belly
And so the laughter, fears, tears and butterflies all fight for front of house…
Only a footstep from the front door and I can hear a mixture of funnies, cheers and mumbled voices and glasses being dropped or chinked
I stand and wait for a couple of minutes and I listen
The music is all of my favourites including some hard to find remixes
And I suddenly realise that this party is for me.

Inside their smiles and welcomes are overwhelming and people hugging just too tightly with a warmth that was unexpected but kind of funny
Everyone is here and some that I haven’t seen for years so he must of sent out his cyber spies across all of those friend networking sites
I can’t believe this is all for me and I’m just lost for words as the music comes to a sudden stand still…

“The glasses were raised slowly to the air and speeches that touched my every hair
As the tears welled up and were close to falling I stood and looked into every single face
That’s when I saw that they couldn’t see me and they were just starring into space
I now knew that I had already been here earlier and had just come back for one last look around before I said goodbye…
I smiled helplessly and I foolishly waved as they wished me all the best
And I turned around to look into what I thought was the setting sun, but it was nothing more than the light at the end of my time…”






© 2007 Steven Pottle

“The Train Tracks”

A midnight train slips quickly through the countryside
Bleeding it’s way all along and onwards
Past famous landmarks and known map symbols
Fast cutting trees in seconds
And turning whole cities into blurs and suddens
Creating a way of slicing the moment
But finding small time to stop off now and again-
To let the passengers work or visit.





© 2007 Steven Pottle